


i know we'll make it anywhere

by rarmaster



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: Anna doesn't run from things.But it's sweet that Kratos is worried about her.
Relationships: Anna Irving/Kratos Aurion
Kudos: 11





	i know we'll make it anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> me: i don't have any ideas for the pregnancy prompt for [kranna week](https://krannaweek.tumblr.com/)  
> me, two hours later: nevermind

“We could always go, you know,” Kratos whispers.

“Go where?” Anna asks.

It’s the middle of the night, not that she was sleeping—if she had been, Kratos wouldn’t have spoken at all, for fear of waking her—and she’s curled up with her husband on the bed that they have for tonight, have had for the past week. They and the anti-Desian group they’re working with don’t travel a lot, in part because there’s too many of them to up and move at the drop of a hat ( _they’re kind of spread out, anyway, at least three stations in three separate Sylvarant cities_ ), and in Anna’s part, because pregnancy makes travel kind of horrible.

Pregnancy makes everything kind of horrible, she thinks, and tries not to think any more about it. She survived a fucking _Desian ranch_ , she can survive five more months of pregnancy.

Arms wrapped around her, almost unbearably warm in the humid Palmacosta summer, Kratos hums so deep in his chest that Anna can feel it vibrate against her ribs.

“Tethe’alla,” he whispers, quiet, into her hair. “It’s… safer, there. No Desians.”

Anna scowls. “Sounds like running,” she accuses, not liking the shape of that thought on her tongue.

“We’re already running,” Kratos counters, with a bitter little laugh. “And a life on the run is not the place for a newborn child. Tethe’alla would be a safer place to have them, to raise them, to—”

“I’m not running away,” Anna says, sharp, in part because she hates that Kratos suggested it, in part because she hates that she _wants_ to, just a little. She wants more than anything to be safe, to not have to worry about being put in a cage _ever again,_ not have to worry about someone who wants the stone on her neck so badly they’ll rip it off her and steal her life with it, but mostly the cage thing, and—maybe Kratos is right, a little. It’s very difficult to run while pregnant and probably just as hard to run with a newborn child but.

She’s an Irving. She doesn’t run from her problems.

And it would be selfish, anyway. To leave all these people, this makeshift family, her literal actual _father_ —to leave them all while she goes and hides away somewhere safe and carefree?

It makes her feel sick just considering doing it.

Fear could maybe convince her to, but she refuses to let fear cow her.

“We could always come back, once the child is a little older,” Kratos suggests.

Anna shakes her head. “I’m not leaving at all,” she insists. “I don’t run from things, Kratos. I _refuse_ to run from things. It’s—we’ll be fine. I’m sure. We- we have to _try_. We can’t let _fear_ drive us into hiding. I can’t live like that. I can’t.”

Kratos hums again, uncertain, like maybe he wants to argue, but then he breathes, long and slow. “Alright,” he tells her, and he kisses her head. “Then we’ll stay. But if you change your mind, let me know.”

She doesn’t think she will, and she’s about to snap and tell him that, but—he means well, he really does. And she should recognize that. This offer does not come out of cowardice, it comes out of concern, out of wanting to keep her and their child safe. For all Anna is reckless and bold, Kratos is cautious and careful. Sometimes that looks like cowardice, but sometimes something walks like a duck but doesn’t quack like one.

That metaphor got away from her.

The point is.

Anna twists enough she can press a brief kiss to Kratos’ lips. “Thank you, y’know, for offering,” she tells him, because it’s just his way of showing he cares. “I don’t want to leave Sylvarant, but… I dunno. The fact that you’re willing to just for me is sweet.”

Kratos laughs, the short and hollow kind of laugh that means he doesn’t think he deserves that but doesn’t think it’s worth the effort of protesting, either. Anna gets kind of mad at the sound of it, but Kratos—the resourceful bastard—distracts her by kissing her again, deep enough and long enough that she forgets about it entirely.

“You’re welcome,” he tells her, and it’s not an _I-love-you,_ but in that tone it might as well be, so:

“I love you too,” Anna says.


End file.
